


Taken from you, taken from me

by Sylphid



Series: Taken from [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Confessions, Daddy Yuuri, Fluff and Angst, High School AU, Kidfic, Minako's a frickin sharpshooter with rice, Multi, Papa Viktor, Takeshi yuuko and minako are high schoolers, Yuuri and viktor are in their thirties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 18:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8811484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylphid/pseuds/Sylphid
Summary: Takeshi always wondered why "coming out" was restricted to people announcing their homosexuality, bisexuality, or asexuality. He didn't think much of it, though. His parents were gay, so he was supposed to be too.
Right?





	

**Author's Note:**

> It started out as just a kidfic, and then I was like, "hm, what would _coming out_ look like for straight kid with gay parents? And thus, this. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> (ctrl+click the links on a comp, hold the link on a phone to be able to open it in a new tab. sorry for not knowing how to format it as a new tab link D:)
> 
> Takeshi's music: [Infernal dance from The Firebird](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ebGxfERqZ4Y)
> 
> Yuuko's music: [Liszt Piano Concerto No. 1, movement 4](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jI9L0SS2HpM)
> 
> ^^ why yes I'm proud of myself for finding pieces that actually are within the time limit for their respective free skates

_It was of his own resolve_ is what Takeshi used to think about his skating finesse.

But, in truth, it was likely a result of two overbearing parents that wanted to see him succeed, on the ice and off. Or perhaps it was the unlimited rink access that he got from having two successful parents that skated professionally. Or it could’ve even been due to having had two coaches instead of one, since his parents were also his coaches.

Takeshi quickly taught himself that he was a product of fortune, not talent.

And yes, he supposed that was self-degrading, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. He figured he was right, after all. Skating was a relatively large part of his life, and while he enjoyed it, he probably wouldn’t have started were it not for his parents.

It was destiny, which is apparently synonymous with _parents_ , that shaped Takeshi into who he was today. He began to apply the _parenthood algorithm_ \--life choices equal whatever your parents did--to nearly every part of his life.

That’s how Takeshi came to believe he was gay.

As far as he knew, neither Yuuri nor Viktor had ever been in love with a woman. Sure, Viktor had dated a few, but he claims to have never felt anything in those relationships, and Yuuri says he only really ever crushed on Viktor.

Takeshi didn’t mind. He hadn’t really had any romantic experiences yet, so being fated to only fall in love with guys wasn’t a problem for him.

At least, it wasn’t, until his best friend confessed to him.

\---

“Takeshi! Come sit with us!” Yuuko calls, beckoning him with russet doe eyes and a fond smile.

She always asked him over, and he always obliged. Sitting with her wasn’t just calming, it was delightful. Yuuko radiated warmth, a scintillating light for Takeshi’s dimmed eyes. She was his best friend.

“Yuuko,” Takeshi says, smiling. “How’re you feeling today?”

“Fine, fine! Everything’s just… fine,” she replies, a look of contentedness settling over her freckled nose.

Takeshi can’t help the grin that blossoms across his cheeks. “Fine?” he says incredulously. “Your short program was more than _fine_ , Yuu.”

She blushes, pushing her sorrel brown fringe out of her eyes. “It was _fine_ , Take.”

“She’s being modest, again, Minako.”

“Yuuko, stop being modest,” Minako says in a scolding and apathetic manner, all the while still stuffing herself with broccoli-- _it helps me with my flexibility, my magazine said so!_

“I’m not being modest!”

Takeshi and Minako exchange a glance that can only be described as knowing, and while Minako’s glance evolves into a smirk, Takeshi’s might possibly evolve into a simper, but he doesn’t notice, and Yuuko doesn’t notice, so entropy only increases a little and no one bursts into flames or starts to blush violently.

Yuuko stares at a clump of rice enclosed between her chopsticks. “I’m only trying to be honest with myself…” Her fingers twitch and she loses a few grains of rice. “Don’t make it harder on me by inflating my ego!”

“We’re not!” Minako and Takeshi retort.

“Yuuko,” Minako continues, “you’ve gotta give yourself more credit! You’re in first place by a huge margin after that short program!”

“Yeah, we’re talking about a margin wider than Minako’s mouth!” Takeshi tacks on, barely containing his levity.

Minako whips out, slamming her fingers into Takeshi’s side, right under her ribs. “Asshole!”

“Minako, language!” Yuuko admonishes, darting her eyes back and forth, looking for teachers.

And while Takeshi’s still in pain from Minako’s attack, he’s laughing, because Yuuko’s innocence should probably be criminal, and _honestly, would a teacher get that mad?_

“A-Anyway. Enough about me,” Yuuko says, waving a hand in front of her face. “What about Takeshi? He’s got his free skate tonight!”

“True,” Minako mutters, turning her attention back to the broccoli in front of her.

“Not important,” Takeshi adds as he also turns his attention to his food because _let’s not talk about my skating please._

Yuuko slaps him on the arm, pouting. “It is important! You’re in contention for the gold!”

“You say you’re not modest?” Takeshi says, absentmindedly flicking a piece of rice at Minako. “Then I get to say that it’s _not important_.”

“Whatever. I’m still coming tonight.”

“Fine!” Takeshi responds, perhaps a bit loudly.

“Fine!” Yuuko yells back.

Minako looks up, an eyebrow raised. “Who ruffled your feathers, Yuuko, Take--” She pauses. “Eh, nevermind, just Yuuko. You get like this pretty often, Takeshi.”

“Not now, Minako,” Yuuko hisses, and now Takeshi is curious about her behavior as well. “It’s about, well…” she leans over to whisper in Minako’s ears, and suddenly Minako’s eyes are as round as the dumplings on her tray.

Takeshi smirks. “Better bribe her with some food, Yuu. Otherwise, all your secrets will be revealed.”

Minako resorts to flipping him off, and Yuuko relaxes her shoulders because _at least she didn’t swear really loudly again_. “Don’t worry, I can explain it to you after your free skate, Takeshi. I just don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“That’s fine. As long as Minako isn’t dropping rice in my hair or something at the kiss and cry.”

“I take umbrage at that.”

“Ooh, I’m a ballerina, I use fancy words when I talk.”

“I’m gonna drop rice in your hair now.”

“Do it. You won’t.”

“You’re dead, Nishigori.”

Yuuko sits forward in her seat as if to staunch the argumentative flow between the two, but she falls back into a relaxed position before saying a word, and she laughs.

“See, even Yuuko thinks it would be funny if I dropped rice in your perfect head of hair.”

“Wait, I’m not laughing at--”

“No, she’s laughing at how stupid you sound right now.”

“That’s not it eith--”

“Oh, so now it’s two against one, huh? That’s fine, I’ve enough rice for two.”

They go quiet. And then they’re all laughing because of the ridiculousness of it all, in spite of the fact that Minako would certainly go through with it if she were actually upset.

Yuuko lids her eyes slightly and smiles at Takeshi. “You’ll be great tonight, I promise.”

“I hope so,” he says, smiling back at her.

“I’ll even make sure Minako comes too, so you better skate her pants off,” Yuuko adds.

“Please don’t,” Minako comments.

Takeshi grins. “Don’t worry, your pants are too tight for that, Minako.”

Minako frowns.

“Okay, but seriously, should I bring white or brown rice.”

\---

The ice feels good under his feet tonight. Solid, but yielding. Ready for sculpting, for skating. Seats filled, lights at full blast, the rink is more ready than he is.

Everything’s cold; the atmosphere, the ground, his fingers, his toes, his nose. But he’s sweating, and it’s not because he’s straining himself in any way. His eyes have been drifting since he put on his skates; scanning, observing. She’s out there somewhere--Minako too, probably.

As the warm-ups wind down, and Takeshi prepares to get off the ice, there’s a voice:

“Takeshiiiii! Good luck!”

Takeshi looks toward the voice--it’s Yuuko, and she’s smiling, and she’s radiant under the lights of the arena, although _why’d I just think that_ , and he shakes the thought from his head. He waves back and smiles wide.

Minako holds up a small burlap sack filled with contents Takeshi can only guess about.

There are two skaters that go before him, and while neither of them are bad, they aren’t notable either. He smiles for them and applauds though, because he was in their shoes once, and perhaps they’d surpass him someday.

A deep voice resonates from the speakers, and Takeshi knows it’s his introduction. “Skating to the Infernal Dance from Igor Stravinsky’s, _The Firebird_ , Nishigori Takeshi.”

There’s some clapping, and he thinks he hears Minako cheering, but he tries to tune it all out.

After all, he’s no longer Takeshi. He’s Kashchei the Immortal.

The music starts with fervor and flair and so does Takeshi. He’s in a black leotard, and there are pitch feathers plastered onto the outside of it, flaunting his eminence. They flap about every time he turns, their wisps rising with every twist and twirl.

Now Kashchei isn’t really one for dancing, but he’s just been put under the spell of the great Firebird, whose magic causes the king and his men to dance madly for as long as they can.

So Takeshi begins his mad dance with an impressive Biellmann spin, pulling his leg over his head from his backside. The audience goes nuts at his flexibility. He smirks.

_You haven’t seen anything yet._

There are jarring blasts of horns; his servants are falling asleep, succumbing to the spell of the Firebird. He lifts his left leg off the ground and leans into the forward outside edge of his right foot. He leaps--three and a half rotations later, he lands, perfectly.

It’s the first time he’s landed a triple axel in competition, and frankly, he didn’t think he was going to try it, but the Firebird’s spell is strong and even Takeshi doesn’t think he can stand up against it.

The flutes are whispering to him, beckoning him to continue his futile dance. It’s for the Firebird after all; he can’t resist. He leans forward, letting the air brush against his regal feathers, blowing them about. A triple toe, triple loop combination follows, as does the applause when he lands both jumps.

More warriors are falling, and what is Kashchei to do but keep dancing. He’s in anguish though, his step sequence revealing his pained motion--it is not his own.

Takeshi is breathing hard. His sweat hisses when it drops onto the ice--the lives of the droplets cut dismally short as they sibilate into a misty haze. 

His least favorite part, the combination spin, approaches without warning. The strings are plucking and the oboe sings a song of remorse--it’s his cue to jump into his flying camel spin, and he lands it with ease, his back leg parallel with the ice. At least at first.

He tilts his body so that it’s now angled against the ice, his leg forming a straight line to his head. He even manages to keep his momentum without using his free leg to propel himself. It’s the best illusion spin he’s done to date.

The crowd goes wild--he’s glad they do. He doesn’t think he’d have the energy to continue if they weren’t cheering for him after every jump or spin.

There’s one jump to go, and it’s another one he hasn’t landed before. The music continues to pick up, the fury which compels Kashchei’s feet is senseless and uncompromising.

_Dissonance, that’s the name of the game_ , Takeshi thinks. _One more jump before the Firebird’s lullaby takes me._

He closes his eyes and soars.

It’s a shaky landing, but he gets all the rotations in. 

The music slows, drowsiness and hypnosis setting in on Kashchei the Immortal. He enters the last step sequence with a huff, trying to maintain his composure, but everyone is still cheering.

He landed his quadruple toe loop. They couldn’t _not_ cheer.

The final notes play--they’re soft; a lullaby--and Takeshi takes an arabesque position, his free leg perpendicular with the supporting one and his hand reaching out to some unforeseen force. Sure, it’s a little overdramatic, but it’s Stravinsky, and it’ll get him the points.

“That was Nishigori Takeshi, folks! What an emotionally provocative and technically precise skate!”

At the far edge of the rink is a man with a crinkled smile and eternally unkempt dark hair. His coach heads over to the kiss and cry, and he motions for Takeshi to meet him there. Yuuri has always been a bit more involved than Viktor, although Viktor’s always too busy with work to be involved anyhow, so Takeshi doesn’t mind. 

“Takeshi! That was amazing!”

Takeshi flushes and looks away, his cheeks florid and warm despite the rink’s cool temperature. “Thanks, Dad.”

Yuuri frowns. “That’s all you have for me? ‘Thanks, Dad’? Your brevity hurts, Takeshi.”

“Sorry, I’m just a little exhausted,” Takeshi apologizes, sitting down on the bench with a heave. “Your programs work me to the bone.”

Suddenly, his father’s frown turns into a deeper, more anxious look of concern. “I-If it’s too much, we can slow down!”

“Dad, I’m fine.”

“Just say the word, we can take out the quad and the triple axel!”

“ _Dad_ , I’m _fine_.”

“Are you sure?” Yuuri inquires, taking Takeshi by the chin so that he could look into his eyes. “Please don’t lie to me. _Especially_ if it’s concerning you.”

Takeshi pushes his arm away. “Yes, Dad, I promise I’m _fine_!”

Yuuri smirks. “Oh, is it embarrassing when I grab your face?” he says, taking Takeshi by the cheek. “You never did lose those chipmunk pouches.”

“ _Dad_!”

They’re interrupted by the PA system; his scores are in. “We will now display the scores for skater Nishigori Takeshi.”

In an instant, numbers are on the screen, his technical and performance scores both higher than they’ve ever been. He’s overwhelmed, physically and emotionally as Yuuri wraps his arms around him, and he struggles to take in the scores, and seriously, _do scores even go that high?_

Yuuri puts his head into Takeshi’s hair. “I’m so proud of you. I hope you know that.”

Takeshi smiles. “Of course, Dad.”

The rest of the programs seem to go by quickly, and while there are some talented skaters, none of them seem to measure up to Takeshi’s seemingly immortal rendition of the Infernal Dance. The medal ceremony passes quickly as well, Takeshi’s place on the podium fleeting and ephemeral, but that didn’t really bother him.

He does a quick scan of the crowd again, but he doesn’t see Yuuko _or_ Minako. It was odd for either of them to leave before the medal ceremony, but something probably came up, so he didn’t think much of it.

In fact, he thinks he’s done thinking for the night as he heads to the locker room.

He finds out he’s mistaken when a note falls out of his bag as he opens it.

The crumpled parchment was small, like it came from one of Yuuko’s silvery notepads. And the first thing he notices on the paper is Yuuko’s name at the bottom right.

_Huh? What’s Yuu doing writing me notes?_

Takeshi proceeds to read from the top.

_Take,_

_You skated beautifully tonight. You always do. I’m not sure how, but you take my breath away every time you enter the rink. Well, I suppose I do know how. I think I’m in love withyou. With your skating, your adorable face, your humor, the small patches of downy hair on the belly that you deny having._

_If you think that, you just might love me too… meet me under the Yoshino cherry by the school._

_\- Yuuko_

Takeshi didn’t realize he had put his other hand over his mouth as he read it.

_Yuu…_

He sits back down on the bench. It’s too much to stand at the moment. 

_Doesn’t she know my parents are gay? I can’t… what would they do if they found out I was different from them? Would they kick me out of the house?_

He slams his fist into the lockers against his back.

_Yuu…_

Yuuri is waiting for him just outside the locker room.

He couldn’t sneak out even if he wanted to.

Takeshi leaves the locker room and heads with Yuuri to the car.

\---

Yuuko won’t talk to him.

Won’t even look at him, really. She doesn’t invite him to her table at lunchtime, and they don’t walk back together after school anymore. Takeshi’s aware that he screwed up-royally so. He just can’t think of a way to remedy the problem.

He can’t ask her out. Or go up to her to try and explain. She might accidentally reveal his sexuality to Yuuri and Viktor.

No, he can’t take any risks.

It’s on the third day of isolation when Minako approaches him.

“So you think you can just ditch Yuuko and then never talk to her again?” Minako asks, stepping in front of him in the hallway.

“Okay, in my def--”

“In your defense?” Minako says, her voice raising. “What defense could you possibly have for breaking your best friend’s heart in the worst way possible?!”

Takeshi furrows his brows. “How was I supposed to say no politely? She asked me to show up if I loved her too. I didn’t show up.”

“But you do love her! I’ve seen you stare at her before!”

Takeshi sighs and closes his eyes. “Whatever. What’s done is done.”

_Why does everyone fail to understand that my parents are gay?_

Minako raises a fist then drops it. “You disgust me,” she growls. She puts her backpack onto the ground and unzips it, pulling out a familiar burlap sack. Without warning, she covers him in rice--black rice. “I thought I’d go with the color of your heart.”

She leaves in a huff.

When Takeshi gets home that day, he goes to his room and cries.

\---

“Takeshi, could you at least tell me what’s wrong?”

“No.”

Takeshi’s eyes are red, and his feet are cold, and his back is against the door, because he doesn’t know if Yuuri will use his key to unlock the door, so he has to take extra precautions. He hasn’t stopped crying.

“Takeshi, I spent my fair share of crying when I was younger too, and let me tell you, it was always better to do it with a friend. Or one of my parents.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

Slowly, Takeshi shifts his weight off of the door, unlocking it at the same time. 

The first thing Yuuri does when he enters the room is hug Takeshi. And it’s surprising, to say the least, but it’s not unwanted, and Takeshi hugs him back.

Yuuri quickly hops onto the edge of the bed and pats the spot next to him. “Unless you want to sit on my lap, which is totally fine too!”

“Dad, I’m not sitting on your lap.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “You’re right, that’s probably some weird form of child abuse if you make your kids do it in their teenage years…”

“Their ‘teenage years’?” Takeshi responds, chuckling. “You’re not that much older than me.”

“Hey now, your father and I adopted you when you were four and we were twenty-four! That’s a pretty big gap!”

“Well, you don’t look like you’re in your thirties.”

“I’m gonna pretend that I’m not insulted, because I just _know_ you’re jealous of my desirably unbridled youthfulness.”

Takeshi fakes a gag, and Yuuri frowns. “You definitely sound like you’re 80, though.”

“Take!”

Now they’re both laughing, and Takeshi isn’t sure how he did it, but his dad managed to get his mind off of Yuuko for a good five minutes without much effort. Well, excluding the effort taken to actually get into his room. 

Yuuri re-centers them though, and he puts a hand on Takeshi’s shoulder. “Look, I understand if you really don’t want to talk about it, but know that I’m your dad, and you can talk to me about _anything_.” His eyes are soft yet stormy. He’s completely serious.

Takeshi closes his eyes and breathes out. “Yuuko won’t talk to me. At all.”

Yuuri’s eyebrows raise at this. “I feel like you two are sometimes closer than Viktor and I are. Do you know why she’s not talking to you?”

Takeshi gulps. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

Yuuri’s phone beeps. “Shoot. That’s my timer for the oven. If you want, we can talk about it with Papa over dinner?”

_Dad and Papa…_

“Sure. Let’s do that.”

_It’s about time that I come out to them._

\---

“I just realized that I never fully congratulated you for a job well done at the last competition, Take!” Viktor squeals, running over behind Takeshi in his chair.

“Oh, Papa, please I’m too old for th--agh!” 

Suddenly he’s in the air, and frankly, he’s a bit impressed that Viktor can still lift him up like this, if only for a moment or two. 

“Whew, you’ve put on some pounds, Take!”

Yuuri frowns. “Viktor, don’t call our son fat!”

“Oh, having a little belly isn’t a bad thing, Yuuri!” He sets Takeshi back down in the chair with a thud. “I loved it when you had a little flub there. Then I really _could_ call you katsudon.” Viktor sweeps the silver strands of hair from his face and winks at Takeshi. “Don’t worry, everyone falls for the ones with nice stomachs.”

Takeshi laughs before remembering Yuuko’s note.

" _the small patches of downy hair on the belly that you deny having._ "

He sighs.

“Hey, is everything alright?” Viktor says, worried now. “I really didn’t mean to offend you. And you’re not fat, I promise.”

“That’s not it… I just…” _Ugh, why is this so hard?_

“Take’s going through a rough patch with Yuuko, that’s all.” Yuuri chimes in, rubbing Takeshi’s arm.

_That’s not really all, but I appreciate the sentiment, Dad._

“Well, if that’s all, that’s nothing a little bit of Yuuri’s cooking can’t solve!” Viktor coos, grabbing his fork eagerly. “Let’s dig in!”

“O-Or talk it out, if you want!” Yuuri adds hastily. “Whatever you prefer, buddy.”

_Buddy? He hasn’t called me ‘buddy’ since I was six. How does he seem even more nervous than I am about all this… Ugh, it’s time I spoke up._

“L-Let’s just start to eat.”

_Damn it._

“Mm, it really is quite good, sweetie.”

“Well, thank you, Vikka.”

_God, I’ve gotta stop stalling._

Takeshi stands up from his chair.

“Take? Are you alright?” Yuuri asks, a small pout on his face.

“I-uh, I’ve got something to say.”

Both of his dads put their forks down, their eyes focused on him--attentive, but in no way judging. At least, that’s what Takeshi figures. I mean, how much can you tell from a pair of eyes, really?

“Dad, Papa, I’m not gay.”

There’s a pause, a stillness that chokes Takeshi.

Apparently it doesn’t choke Viktor though, as he picks his fork right back up and returns to his plate of yakisoba. He even has the gall to slurp it up, grinning at Yuuri when he does so. But Yuuri’s response is even worse.

“Okay?”

_… Okay?_

_I expected knives to be rammed in between the boards of the table, voices to be raised, not ‘okay!’_

“T-That doesn’t bother you guys?!” Takeshi questions, his eyes wide and his mouth open. “It’s not a problem?”

Viktor is confused now. “No?”

Takeshi’s lips start quivering, and his eyes start to water, but he tries to keep himself grounded. “B-But, you and Daddy are gay…”

The table goes silent again, and everyone stops eating. Yuuri slowly gets up from his chair and walks over to Takeshi, and he embraces him. “Takeshi… You’re our son. Nothing will change that. We don’t care about who you love, as long as they love you just as much as you love them.”

Viktor walks over too, and he wraps both of them in his arms. “We’ll always support you, no matter what.” He closes his eyes and rests his chin on Takeshi’s head. “I’m so sorry that we ever made you think otherwise.”

Takeshi is bleary-eyed, and there are beads of water on his cheeks, but he’s smiling. “You didn’t… I just didn’t think…” He sighs and laughs at the ground. “I’m so stupid.”

“No, baby, you’re not stupid at all,” Yuuri says, running a hand through Takeshi’s hair. “You feared being different from us. But we don’t mind. You’re still _our son._ ”

“Unless you quit skating.” Viktor pipes in, his chin bumping against Takeshi’s head. “Then you’re not our son anymore.”

Takeshi keeps laughing and keeps crying. “Don’t worry Papa, I won’t stop.”

“And when did you start calling me Daddy again?” Yuuri adds, a sly smile across his cheeks.

Takeshi groans. “I’m never calling you Daddy again.”

“No! Don’t stop!” Yuuri whines. “You were so adorable when you did that as a kid. I mean, you’re still adorable now and--”

“Dad, please.”

“He’s right. You were the most adorable kid there ever was,” Viktor announces. There’s a laughter that bubbles out of him, mirth-filled helium balloons bursting at his teeth. “You tried using Yuuri’s skates once and ended up sliding into the splits.”

Yuuri laughs and adds to the story. “But then you got up and tried to ‘jump like Daddy.’ Your quadruple loop turned into a flying butt spin.”

“ _Dad_.”

“Ahahaha, and when you attacked your hair with a pair of scissors because you wanted to ‘look like Daddy’ too!” Viktor says, doubled over in laughter.

“We had to buzz it short because you cut out a whole strand!” He pouts and lets out a low harrumph, not unlike a baby goat. “But you were still adorable, so I guess it was alright in the end.”

“Oh my god, you guys are so embarrassing.”

Yuuri puts his nose in Takeshi’s hair. “Yes, but you love us.”

Takeshi smiles. “Yeah. I do.”

\---

“How do I tell Yuuko that I love her?”

“Well, you have to apologize first,” Yuuri notes, looking down through his glasses at the newspaper he’s reading--there’s an article about Takeshi apparently, and he has to frame it.

Takeshi frowns. “Yeah, but how do I do that?”

Yuuri looks up. “Do what she did. Write a letter.”

_A letter, huh?_

“Thanks, Dad. I’ll try that.”

Yuuri waves his coffee mug in acknowledgment, spilling a drop onto himself. He stares at the expanding fawn splotch on his shirt with apprehension, but he turns back to the newspaper with a submissive sigh.

“Nice spill, by the way,” Takeshi teases, opening his room door.

“Watch your mouth, mister!” Yuuri yells back jokingly as the door shuts.

In the quiet expanse of his curtained room, Takeshi finds solace. The auburn walls, flexible, not in size but in accommodation. Here, he could think. Here, he could write.

_Yuuko_ , he starts. Simple enough.

_I’m sorry for not meeting you after my free skate._

Takeshi hits his pen against the desk, thinking. 

_~~I’m sorry for not meeting you after my free skate.~~ _  
_I’m sorry for being a complete asswipe._

No, that’s not quite it either.

_~~I’m sorry for not meeting you after my free skate.~~ _  
_~~I’m sorry for being a complete asswipe.~~ _  
_I’m sorry for everything._

Takeshi slams his fist onto the table. “Why is this so hard?!” he yells into the wall. 

A muffled voice answers. “Don’t overthink it!” Yuuri was always overthinking things, _what right does he have to give me that kind of advice?_

_~~I’m sorry for not meeting you after my free skate.~~ _  
_~~I’m sorry for being a complete asswipe.~~ _  
_~~I’m sorry for everything.~~ _  
_I’m sorry._

_There’s no excuse for how I’ve hurt you. I was a fool--I thought that I couldn’t love you. But now I’m sitting here, writing this letter, and I haven’t talked to you in three days._

_And it’s killing me._

_Yuuko, I love you. If you ever think you can forgive me, meet at the Yoshino cherry._

_I’m so sorry for ever hurting you._

He doesn’t sign it.

\---

Yuuko’s bag was easy enough to find, although Takeshi did get scolded by an old lady as he exited the ladies’ locker room. 

“Pervert!” She proceeds to whip his butt with a towel.

_I’m the pervert?!_

Most of the seats are filled in the arena, but there are few open spots here and there. Takeshi spots Minako and heads toward one of the vacant seats beside her. She moves her purse there before he can make it.

“You’re not welcome.”

Takeshi frowns and gives her a look. “Come on, this isn’t between us.”

Minako suddenly looked up at him, eyes blazing, and Takeshi’s afraid he’s about to get pelted with rice again. “You made it between us when you hurt my friend!”

“Well, I’m trying to fix things!”

“Oh really?” Minako says, narrowing her already sharp eyes. “How so?”

Takeshi moves Minako’s purse onto her lap and promptly sits down. “I wrote her a letter.”

Minako’s gaze falls to Takeshi’s fingers, which are drumming away at his legs, anxious. They’re smudged with ink, and his fingernails are actually trimmed, and Takeshi takes this time to run a hand through his hair, and _is that gel in his hair?!_

She pretends not to be excited. “Humph. It better have been a great letter. I’ll be reading it after she meets you tonight.”

“ _If_ she meets me,” Takeshi corrects with a frown on her face.

“Oh my god, Takeshi, you’ve been the topic of so many sleepover conversations. She’ll come.”

“Wait, what?!”

“Shh, they’re about to call her out!”

“Minako, you guys talked about me at--”

Static bounces off the steel beams holding the place together, and the PA comes on. “Now entering the rink is Aoki Yuuko, skating to the final movement of Liszt’s Piano Concerto No. 1.”

There’s polite clapping, before it stops and all eyes turn to Yuuko.

The piano comes in, the violas soon after--the movement is marked allegro marziale animato for a reason. All the buildup, the themes and the recapitulations, culminating with this winged finale.

Yuuko kicks off the ice, building her own momentum as she carves a path across the ice. She circles the curve of the rink before vaulting into her first jump--a triple flip. Three rotations and a flawless landing scores her a good number of points.

The flutes play their petite trills; it’s apparently Yuuko’s cue to spin. She launches her free leg and propels herself into a beautiful layback spin, her back arched and her toes pointed and her arms reaching toward the ceiling.

She already seems exhausted, but Takeshi has faith that she’ll pull through. She always has. The piano sings its tune from an earlier movement, the strings plucking along, and Yuuko enters her step sequence. It’s serpentine, but it’s so obvious that she’s making a giant ‘S’ on the rink that it didn’t even need to be included in the program.

The piece is minor now, and her skating shows it. Her facial expressions sing the melody, her double Salchow double flip combination sings the harmony.

More trills, this time in the piano. The end of the piece is coming, and she attempts her triple axel. 

She tumbles.

All of her velocity is cut in that moment; her skating has less intensity; her expression is limited to one of discontent.

Takeshi isn’t sure what compels him to, but he stands up and cups his hands over his mouth. “Don’t let it bother you, Yuu! Finish the program with your best!”

Yuuko looks into the crowd, despite being in the middle of a step sequence. When her eyes first meet Takeshi’s they’re torrid. But Takeshi smiles anyway and gives her a thumbs up.

She rolls her eyes and accelerates, a smile on her face.

Her last jump is waltz jump that leads into a doughnut spin and then a Biellmann spin. Takeshi knows she’ll nail it.

But at some point, Yuuko changes her mind and changes the half rotation waltz jump into a three and a half rotation triple axel, which she lands this time. She goes into the horizontal doughnut spin, holding onto her skate all the way into the Biellmann spin as the piano plays its chromatics and the orchestra plays its final chords.

There’s a resounding E flat, and Yuuko strikes a pose.

The note hangs in the air by a thread, but it’s cut by the sharp tones of thunderous applause. Minako is slapping Takeshi’s arm and crying, and Takeshi can’t say that his eyes aren’t at least a little wet, but he can’t dwell on it because he has to get to the tree before Yuuko can go see Minako.

He’s starting to walk away when there’s a loud smack that rattles his spine. He turns around and Minako is beaming. “Go get her, you asshole!”

Now he’s running and he slams into the door as he exits the arena, and he thinks someone yells “Hey!” at him for being so rowdy, but he doesn’t have time to worry about it. The wind thrashes against his face, but for some reason, his cheeks aren’t cold at all. In fact, that breath of breezy respite warms him up, and he runs even faster.

The Yoshino cherry has always been _their_ spot if that’s a thing that exists. It’s where they’d go to hide from Minako, or to skip classes together.

Takeshi waits.

Theory can explain why time is relative, but Takeshi isn’t sure why when he’s waiting to see Yuuko, it burrows its head in the ground like an ostrich.

But time moves forward, even when it doesn’t seem to. And Takeshi’s wait is not in vain.

She’s still in her costume when she gets there, and her hair is still tied up, but the bun is messy, and it looks like it endured gale force winds on the way there.

It’s kinda cute, if Takeshi’s being honest with himself.

Which he is. He promised himself he would be.

“Yuu.”

“Wait a sec, Take,” Yuuko says, doubled over with her back against the tree. “I just ran all the way here. Give me a moment to catch my breath.”

“I suppose I can allow that,” Takeshi teases.

Staring at Yuuko in her costume makes Takeshi realize he probably should’ve dressed up a bit more for this, but it’s too late now, and Yuuri’s in the back of his mind yelling don’t overthink it and so he tries not to.

Yuuko breathes out loudly. “Alright.” She swiftly sits down in front of Takeshi.

And slaps him.

“You let me think all sorts of crazy things for three days, and then you pull this shit on me?!”

Takeshi rubs his cheek and widens his eyes. “S-Sorry for making you wait, Yuu.”

Yuuko sighs and directs her attention to the ground. “I _guess_ I can forgive you…”

“Even if that’s too much to ask, I’d understand,” Takeshi replies. He cards a hand through Yuuko’s hair, pulling out the weakened bun. “You could do better than a stupid guy like me.”

“Even if that were true, which it’s not…” Yuuko looks up at Takeshi. “I don’t know that I’d be able to hold out for more than a few days. Certainly not any longer than I’ve already had to wait. I’m tired of waiting.”

Takeshi grins. “So cliché.”

Yuuko smiles back. “Whatever.”

And Takeshi isn’t sure if the time is right, because frankly, his experience with time in the last five minutes has been less than cordial, but he decides it is anyway. He leans forward, his eyes closing and his heart thumping wildly inside his chest. Yuuko leans forward too, and he can feel her soft jasmine breath on his lips--

There’s a camera shutter.

Takeshi freezes. “Oh my god.”

There’s a rustling in the bushes nearby, and a couple voices ring out:

“Viktor, you left the sound on!”

“It’s not my fault! I didn’t make the phone!”

Time definitely rushes as Takeshi approaches the hedges, or maybe he’s just mad. He swipes the leafy cover to the side to discover a pair of men-- _children, really_ \--fiddling with a smart phone.

“O-Oh! Takeshi! What’re you doing out here so late at night?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

Yuuri pales, and Viktor is about to butt in, but Yuuri scolds him-- _you’ve done enough!_ “We were just, uh, taking pictures of the scenery!”

Yuuko is giggling against the tree, but Takeshi doesn’t find it quite as humorous. “Alright, well, the scenery is leaving now. Have a nice night.” Takeshi turns around and takes Yuuko by the hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Okay,” Yuuko says simply, smiling and laughing.

“W-Wait, can’t you two pose for at least one picture?” Yuuri calls out frantically.

“Use protection!” comes swiftly after, a parting gift from Viktor.

Takeshi turns beet red at that comment and breaks into a jog, Yuuko quickly following along. They find a reprieve on the opposite side of the school, against the bricks. And Takeshi can’t help it, but he’s laughing now, because Yuuko’s laugh is infectious and sonorous, and he wonders when he fell in love with it.

They turn to each other, a smile on each of their faces.

“Now, where were we?” Takeshi mutters playfully.

“God, you think I’m cliché,” Yuuko says with a simper. She puts her hands against Takeshi’s face.

“It’s alright, Yuu, I still love you.”

“Oh shut up, Take,” and he does, right after she silences him with a kiss. Her thumbs rub against his cheeks, and Takeshi’s hands find their way to her torso.

“I love you too, Take.”

**Author's Note:**

> And then Cephas proceeded to read the eulogies for all those that perished from the horribly horrible action scenes that were in this fic. Never again shall I attempt to write skating scenes holy CrAP--


End file.
